Traditionally
by evilbeans
Summary: "Eat the damn candy, Spock, or I won't be your valentine." Oneshot, K/S.


**Title:** Traditionally  
**By:** pterodactyl46  
**Rating:** PG-13 for slight suggestive themes.  
**Spoilers:** Not that I can think of?  
**Summary:** "Eat the damn candy, Spock, or I won't be your valentine."  
**Disclaimer:** This is fanfiction. I do not own Spock, Kirk, or any of the Enterprise crew. If I did, a lot more redshirts would have died, along with every single one of Kirk's women.  
**Author's Note:** Valentine's Day is over a month in the past...so why not rekindle the love? Now, I know that valentines can also be your friends, but I've changed the tradition a bit for the story. I also realize that Spock is a bit OOC, but he's OOC in all cute fluff, because Spock was rarely ever cutesy in the show.

* * *

Devices on the bridge beeped and whirred. The room was a veritable cacophony of sound, even though it was a quiet day. The klaxon hadn't screamed danger once since alpha shift's arrival four hours ago. The bridge officers were calm; Sulu went about his work, twisting dials and making course corrections as needed. Chekov was busy tuning and retuning the weapons array until it was perfect. He hummed along to the song Uhura softly sang, accompanying her familiar yet still eery Bantu melody. Scotty was puttering around with a control station, lying on his back and cursing in Gaelic every so often. The captain sat like a statue, having finished his log entry a few minutes ago. A normal quiet day of traveling on the bridge of Starfleet's flagship, the USS Enterprise.

The only difference on the bridge was Spock. The Vulcan normally worked nonstop, staring into the viewer or calculating probabilities or going over the test results for his latest theory. His work ethic was impeccable; he pushed himself to inhuman standards, ignoring his human feelings and pulling longer shifts than any crew member. Today, however, the science officer sat with his chair swiveled out to face the bridge. He surveyed the room over steepled fingers, assuming an almost meditative pose as he contemplated the scene before him. Mostly, he was just staring at the captain.

Kirk sat sideways in his chair, one boot on the deck plates and the other leg slung over the armrest of his center seat. His back leaned against the other armrest and his gaze bored into the viewscreen, contemplating the stars rushing past them. At warp speed, the stars stretched out like rainbow-colored spaghetti, shooting towards the viewscreen like javelins.

While the captain pondered the nature of spaghetti, Spock pondered the nature of his captain. The first officer took in everything: Kirk's relaxed posture, his brown eyes, his ultra-confident aura. Spock had always admired his captain's ability to insert himself into a situation as the authority figure through sheer force of personality. Although sometimes misused, particularly in Jim's many flings, that self-assuredness was so human that Spock could only find it endearing.

The sliding doors of the turbo elevator whooshed open, admitting Nurse Christine Chapel to the bridge. She carried a tablet and a stylus: medical requisition forms requiring the captain's signature. Her hips swayed as she stepped to the side of the center chair in her short Starfleet issue uniform. Even as the captain signed the forms and returned them, Chapel was shooting amorous, longing glances at Spock from under her lashes. She half-hoped he wouldn't notice. That part laughed at the part who wanted Spock to call her on her half-hearted seduction. Even if he did, what was she looking for? For Spock, dignified science officer, to sweep her up in his arms and spirit her away?

Leaving the bridge with hips swaying and tablet in hand, Christine shot one last look at the Vulcan before the turbolift doors swooshed shut again. Spock noticed that look as he had noticed the others: in passing, simply information to be filed away. The nurse had made multiple romantic advances towards him, but the first officer had politely declined. He had no wish to procreate at this time, nor would he procreate with a human.

Some time later, beta shift arrived to relieve the main bridge crew. Uhura, Scotty, Sulu, and Chekov quickly headed to the turbolift, which they directed to the recreation deck. Spock and Kirk stayed behind a little longer, reporting the past six hours to the officers now heading the bridge. Once finished, the two friends stepped into the turbolift together, doors swooshing shut behind them. **"Recreation deck,"** Jim directed hurriedly, looking forward to getting his butt kicked by Spock in a game of three-dimensional chess.

**"Belay that,"** Spock told the computer before the lift could start on its way. The captain gazed at his science officer curiously.

**"What's on your mind, Spock?"** The Vulcan remained stoic and silent, only speaking to direct the turbolift to the deck where his quarters were located. Kirk stood still in wonderment. In all the years he'd known his first officer, Spock had never been known for keeping secrets. He always said exactly what was he was thinking. After all, it was only logical. Maybe there was some Vulcan ritual that Spock needed assistance with? The only time when the Vulcan had acted so out of character was when he was under the influence of the pon farr, the shame of his race. Jim quivered slightly, wondering if, perhaps, the deeper wishes he had tamped down so carefully were about to be exposed.

The turbolift doors swooshed open onto an empty corridor. The two men stepped out, Spock leading the way, although Kirk knew where to go as well as he knew the path to his own rooms. Their walk was also comfortably quiet, with only the sound of boots against deck and the everpresent engine noise to mar the silence.

Having reached his quarters, Spock keyed in his entry code. The doors opened with the same sound as those of the turbolift, revealing the rooms of a solemn, meditative Vulcan science officer who...really loved pink? Spock strode inside, the usual unperturbable expression masking his emotions. He didn't seem surprised at all by the red and pink decorations adorning his living space. Jim, on the other hand, was flabbergasted. He had to remind himself to shut his mouth, jaw hanging loosely in astonishment. Spock's quarters were always decorated simply in subdued tones; the gaudy hearts were simply...illogical. Jim could think of no more apt word, considering what he knew Spock would say, were they in Jim's quarters instead.

**"Spock...what the hell is all this?"** A bouquet of pink roses was arranged in a vase on the table. Heart-shaped boxes of candy were stacked perfectly atop one another. As uncharacteristic as the changes were, it was definite that they were made by the science officer's exacting hand.

**"Jim...out of all the crew on the Enterprise, it is to you that I am the closest. I have observed over the past four years that you are a lover of old Earth holiday traditions. Therefore, I am asking you to be my valentine, since on Earth it is the fourteenth of February."** Throughout his whole speech, Spock retained his matter-of-fact, self-assured tone. It was only when Jim started to laugh uproariously that an expression of slight distaste crossed the Vulcan's face. **"Have I misunderstood the ritual?"**

Wiping his eyes, the captain took a deep breath to maintain composure. **"Sort of, Spock. On Valentine's Day, you ask the person you are or wish to be romantically involved with to be your valentine. The role doesn't traditionally fall to friends,"** Jim explained gently. **"Although, since you went to all this trouble, I'll take some of that chocolate."** As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the captain opened one of the pink boxes and popped a piece into his mouth, offering one to his friend. He was unsure of himself: he knew what he secretly wanted. What he didn't know was whether he was brave enough to act.

Spock quickly shoved the uncomfortable feeling of chagrin away. He moved to join his captain, disregarding the embarrassment he felt at having put his friend in an awkward position. He shook his head at the proffered sweet, finding the consumption of such food unnecessary, as it provided no nutritional value. Kirk rolled his eyes and pressed it into Spock's hand anyway. **"Eat the damn candy, Spock, or I won't be your valentine."** The science officer's gaze flashed up to meet Jim's, wondering what his captain meant.

Spock soon figured it out, thanks to an overwhelming battery of tests that proved his hypothesis beyond a shadow of a doubt.


End file.
